


stories from the shore

by myhappyface



Category: Homicide: Life on the Street
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-25
Updated: 2012-05-25
Packaged: 2017-11-05 23:40:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/412316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myhappyface/pseuds/myhappyface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I told you we just shoulda watched it on the boat," Kellerman says, "I think this A/C is older than you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. i like kissing you as much as i have ever liked drinking

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collection of the shorter things I've written that I consider to be in the same universe as my other Lewis/Kellerman stories.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set after "The Hat." Tying one on.

Lewis gets to his feet with a confidence in his sobriety that gives out when he's upright. He hitches himself up against the wall and waits for the floor to even out, and Kellerman, sort of leaning on the couch but mostly prone, laughs. He finishes his drink and rolls to his feet.

"Younguns," Lewis says, with feeling. Kellerman laughs again. He leans in to put Lewis' coat around his shoulders and is close, suddenly close, pressing the fabric smooth against his chest.

Kellerman pats his cheek and Lewis can smell the nicotine on his fingertips. It's driving him crazy.


	2. how that music used to make me smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during "Have a Conscience." Kellerman considers his options.

Out in the cold, wore leather and gloves all day but somehow did not remember how fucking cold it was until Lewis pulled him back out into it. Can't decide if it's worse or better than being inside the boat, worse or better to be outside where Lewis isn't the closest thing to him, where his gun isn't, where the water is.

It's worse. It's probably worse.

Lewis settles the thin jacket onto his shoulders. Tells him about Crosetti, sits next to him, walks off the dock and into the city with him. Kellerman waits for it to be enough.


	3. scenes from a boat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lewis has a vendetta.

Lewis turns out the light and settles on his back, and lets a few minutes pass in silence before he says, "Seriously, this is nice and all, but I'm still shelling out for a place on dry land, you know?"

Kellerman mostly ignores him, because he was up all day and half the night, and because Lewis' vendetta against his boat is not news. "Gotta build up your sea legs somehow, Meldrick."

Lewis sighs, knocks his pillow into shape, turns to look at Kellerman, who's face down on the bed and not paying an adequate amount of attention to the problem. He jabs two fingers into Kellerman's armpit, mercilessly.

Kellerman flinches away and says, "What the hell, man, what are you doin'?"

"Building up my sea fingers."

"Yeah, well, look with your eyes, not your hands," Kellerman says, nosing back down into the bedding. "Go to sleep already."

"Let me ask you, how's a man supposed to sleep under these kinda conditions? The place you lay your bones ain't supposed to move while you're laying on it!"

Kellerman listens to Lewis grumble himself to sleep, listens to the placid movement of the water just outside. He smiles into his pillow.


	4. my secrets on the front page every week

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lewis keeps company. Set an undetermined time after the story "That old time feeling."

A knock at the door startles Kellerman from his fourth hour of surveillance, and he rubs at his eyes before determining the source of the noise.

"Wakey wakey, Magnum," Lewis says, gesturing with a brown bag and a coffee tray at the window. Kellerman leans over to unlock the door and Lewis falls in beside him. 

"I thought you were going straight home after," Kellerman says, remembering Lewis being quite firm on that point before he left for the station. Kellerman pulls the lid off his coffee and lets the smell fill the car before he starts drinking, lets the warmth soak into his hands. 

Lewis sorts through the Danish in the bag and shrugs, offering Kellerman the pastry without almonds. They're both quiet for a few minutes, and then Lewis says, mostly to the dashboard, "Felt like seeing you before I went to sleep, I guess."

Kellerman turns away from the house he'd been watching to look at Lewis, who is collecting wrappers and napkins back into the bag. He looks tired, like maybe he should have gone straight home but instead came to keep Kellerman company on his stakeout, and suddenly all Kellerman wants is to kiss him, so he does. Lewis tastes sweetly like Danish and coffee, like something Kellerman's been waiting for.


	5. the marrying kind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Living arrangements.

They're on a mission in the suffocating heat of the creepy basement in Lewis' building, and Kellerman is holding both their beers as Lewis moves boxes from one side of the room to the other, trying to clear a path to the rattling air conditioner.

"I told you we just shoulda watched it on the boat," Kellerman says, "I think this A/C is older than you." The O's are losing and the label on his bottle is peeling off under the condensation, sticking to his fingers, and it's making him irritable.

"Ha ha ha," Lewis says. "Nothing wrong with this a little elbow grease can't fix." Kellerman hears him knocking a metal something against a second metal something, then some triumphant cursing. Lewis backs out of the corner and looks at the boxes for a second like he's thinking about putting them back where he found them, then snorts.

"Landlord wants his dust arranged a specific way, he can do it his damn self. Can't even keep the air conditioner running in the middle of summer, what kind of joint is this."

"I don't know, man, you're the one who still lives here."

Lewis takes his beer back and downs half of it, smiling a mean smile, like he's had four beers and just knocked a twenty year old A/C into working order and doesn't want to have this conversation. He pats Kellerman's face, hand warm and damp. Kellerman wants to kiss the thin skin of his wrist, wants to taste his pulse, wants it badly enough to do it in the creepy basement in the building he can't get Lewis to move out of.

So he does, and Lewis smiles a different kind of smile.


End file.
